The Activists
by Octavia Delitian
Summary: Maxie is Blaine's disappointment of a son and his life is a grand failure. Everything changes when Archie arrives to Cinnabar Island. Based on a somewhat weird theory that justifies HardenShipping and written for a friend.


"Well? Can you name the evolutions of Bellsprout?"

Blaine hovered like a threatening thundercloud over his son, Maxie, who was half a head shorter than him. The gym was scorching hot as always, but only Maxie was sweating.

Maxie cleared his throat with a "hmm" to get rid of the lump that was forming in his throat. "Weepinbell..." he said with as much clarity as he could manage while staring at the wall. His gaze shifted nervously over the blank surface and now and then returned to the only ornament: A framed picture of his father and Mr Fuji. At least there he was smiling. He was definitely not doing that in reality.

"Correct. And?"

"..."

"You really don't know?"

"Tinkerbell?"

* * *

It was dark and quiet in the gym and and the quiz machines blinked occasionally, waiting for another day of challengers to test their wits. Maxie had gotten cleaning duty, as usual, and made his way from the leader room to the entrance room by room. He barely thought of his movements any more as he performed them. It was a predictable chain of splashes, wringing the mop, sweeping and rinsing and Maxie grunted under his breath as he had an imaginary fight with his father and told him every insult he had ever thought about.

Maxie was in his mid-thirties, yet his father treated him like a schoolboy - and Maxie allowed him to treat him that way. But Maxie had never been an apt trainer, no matter how hard he worked on perfecting his skills. He loved his Pokémon - all Pokémon - even his troublesome Magmar, even though the burns he acquired from attempting to train it during the day made it somewhat hard to hold the mop.

So apparently Maxie was not born to be a champ. Few are, but his father could not accept that his own son would be any lesser than himself. 'You are just lazy and letting your true potential go to waste. You have my blood in your veins and it is supposed to be boiling!' he used to say.

Maybe Maxie was a bastard after all, but it was too late to confront his poor mother about it.

His hands stung and his back hurt by the time he was finally done. Still grumbling, he cleaned the mop and the bucket and put them in their right places before locking the gym door.

Outside he was met with a cold darkness and the eternal sound of the waves splashing against the shoreline. How he detested that sound. Splash - wring - sweep - repeat. "Hmmmph!"

"Hmm?" There was a voice in the night that he had never heard before. A loud, commanding voice that filled him with an urge to find the source, see the man it belonged to. He did not listen to his own grumbling stomach and forgot his aches as he walked out into the darkness. Lured like a sailor by the siren's song he did not stop before he realized that he was down on the beach and the waves were lapping at his boots.

"Not far now, hurry up before the wind turns!" the voice bellowed over the waves, somewhere out in the darkness.

"Why can't we stop on Cinnabar?" another man asked.

"Because we're heading for Seafoam Islands! Don't question my orders!"

"Yeah, you idiot! The boss does the thinking!" a woman shouted.

"Lower your voice, Shelly. You'll wake the locals if you howl like that," the powerful voice ordered.

Then everything was quiet again. Like a spell was broken, Maxie returned to reality and realized that it was pointless to stand there any longer. As he turned to leave he noticed that his medium high heels were quite firmly stuck in the wet sand. He pulled them free forcefully with a grunt and marched home, feeling his previous annoyance well up again.

As he came home, the entire house was dark. His father was either asleep or out late with Mr Fuji. Maxie rounded the corner and headed down the basement entrance, sadly his home during his adult life, and opened the door.

"Oh Vulpix," Maxie sighed as the little Pokémon greeted him with a miserable bark. "You're out of food?" He could not bring Vulpix with him to the gym and train him, no matter how much he wanted to, because of the blasted Magmar that Blaine forced him to use. Magmar was strong, no doubt about it, but he hated Maxie with a passion and was uncontrollable by anyone but Blaine, his previous owner. He would most likely attack Vulpix on sight.

Vulpix kept whining even after Maxie had filled his bowl with Pokémon food. "I've missed you too, poor fellow." Maxie sat down on the floor, ignoring his back pain, and took the little Pokémon in his lap. He then fed it by hand while scratching it behind the ear and talking reassuringly.

Why didn't he just ignore Blaine's stupid discipline and head home to this poor puppy when the gym day was officially over? Vulpix loved him and did not scare him, maybe that was why. Maxie was good at hurting the few who never hurt him back.

Vulpix soon as wull and fell asleep in his arms with a little sigh. It took Maxie a while to get up from the floor without waking him up. The stiffness made him feel old. A man his age should not obey his father. He should not live in his father's basement. But while the world lay open for more talented trainers, it was harder for Maxie. Talents? What talents?

Maxie carried Vulpix gently to his little bed at the foot of his own and went to sleep fully clothed, too tired to get a bit of food on his own.


End file.
